


Blessed

by red_crate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Animal Sacrifice, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mild Blood, Pack Feels, Pining, Season/Series 03, Sharing a Bed, The Hale Pack - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: The magic within him swells as he closes the circle. It's fed by Derek's sacrifice, his promise to provide and protect his pack.Stiles concentrates on the thick web of bond connecting each person to the other and back to Derek. His own threads are bright in his mind, distracting where the thickest leads right back to Derek, to his alpha, to...When he comes back around, Stiles is standing in front of Derek. The red of Derek's eyes glow, and his expression is solemn. Stiles can feel the excitement, the hope, radiating from him.





	Blessed

**Author's Note:**

> The artwork that inspired it is so beautiful and happy. I instantly wanted to do a sort of throw-back feel to sterek fics from s2 and s3. Thank you for your hard work cryptomoon!
> 
> [Here is the art!](https://space-wolf.com/post/176422685877/my-sterekreversebang-art-for-blessed-by)
> 
> All my love to lavenderlotion for the beta work. <3

“This better work, Sparky.” Erica teases, eyebrow lifting as she hefts the bag of supplies from the back of the Jeep before Stiles can get to it. “Derek’s been really bitchy the past few days, because he’s worried about it.”

Stiles looks at the newly rebuilt Hale house, specifically at the porch where Derek stands with Boyd as they discuss something. He catches the mildly annoyed side eye Derek shoots Erica’s way.

“You know he heard you, right?” Stiles pulls his backpack onto a shoulder and holds out a hand for his supply bag. While Erica is more than strong enough to carry the overstuffed bag, Stiles would prefer if he were the only one handling it. There are some very expensive and rare items inside that are integral to the night’s ritual.

Erica huffs and hands the bag over, dropping it by the handle so Stiles has to compensate for the sudden weight. She flips her curls over a shoulder and says, “He knows he’s been bitchy. No need to talk about it behind his back.”

Derek seems to have had enough of the insubordination, because he hops down from the porch and strides over to them saying, “Erica, why don’t you go see if Scott needs any help with the fire wood.”

Stiles smirks at the obvious dismissal and Erica’s resulting eye roll. She listens, however, sauntering around the house to join Scott where it sounds like he’s splitting wood for the bonfire they’ll be making later tonight. When he looks back, Derek is right there in front of him. His expression is solemn, eyes intense enough that Stiles has a moment where he wants to laugh nervously.

He keeps the chuckle to himself though, thinking about how serious this actually is and just how important it is to Derek, particularly.

“Tonight’s the big night, huh?” It’s a stupid thing to say, inane, and Stiles deserves the look Derek gives him.

Stiles tightens his grip on his bag and clears his throat. Things have been a lot less awkward between them in the past six months, but clearly Derek is never going to completely lose the murder-look he has when it comes to people making light of things Derek thinks are important.

“Right,” Stiles tries again, “I’ll just go start setting up.”

Before he gets more than one step away, headed from the house to the tree line, a hand shoots out and stops him. Derek’s grip on the crook of his arm is loose and warm, but Stiles doesn't attempt to pull free. In the mild chill of the autumn evening, Stiles feels the touch like a brand even through the layers of hoodie and flannel covering his skin. After all this time, he is still affected by the casual touches from Derek.

It was barely two years ago when Derek had hated even the idea of touching anyone.

“Do you need anything...else for this?” He asks with an awkward pause.

Stiles had volunteered to do the blessing ritual back when Derek first announced his plans to rebuild the Hale house. It was one of those things that sprang to mind suddenly and popped right out of his mouth without taking time to remember he didn’t know how to do the ritual—he only remembered reading a mention of it in one of the books Deaton had lent him. Once the words were hanging in the air though, Stiles had realized how much he wanted to do this for the pack, for Derek. It had taken a surprisingly, maybe even depressingly, small amount of effort to talk Derek into agreeing once he was assured Stiles's dedication to the task was up to snuff. Stiles had spent the next several months pouring over books and practicing on his own, getting Deaton to help him get all the ingredients needed. He could probably recite the spell in his sleep at this point, having worked through the process in his mind a thousand times.

The look in Derek’s eyes when Stiles meets them is full of meaning, even if Stiles isn’t quite sure how to interpret it. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to let Derek down. The urge to pull the alpha into a hug is strong and feels out of place here in the middle of the gravel driveway. Stiles shoves the feeling away, pasting on a smile and shrugging.

“No. I think I got it all.” He takes a step away before pausing to add, “Except for the thing with the sacrifice that you have to do later...” With his free hand, Stiles grabs the back of his neck, grimacing at the thought of all the blood that he’s going to be seeing tonight.

He remembers his backpack which has a change of clothes and some comic books for him to read later if he gets bored while the wolves are running. The strap slips down his shoulder and arm, and Stiles offers it to Derek. “You could hold onto this for me while I get started.”

Derek nods once and takes the backpack, shoulders relaxing as his hand drops away from Stiles. “I just wanted to double check. I...thank you for this. For offering to do this for the pack.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say, _“I’m doing it mostly for you,”_ but Stiles thinks that is probably showing his hand a little too soon. Instead, he says, “Of course I would. I’d do anything to help.” It’s true, and it’s so close to the heart of his motivations.

He leaves Derek there, relieved to be away from the weight of his hazel eyes. He knows there was no trip in his heart beat, no tale in his scent, but Stiles constantly feels like he’s on the cusp of being found out. The thought of being rejected is too much to bear.

While the rest of the pack finishes getting ready for the bonfire and subsequent feast, Stiles starts the arduous task of preparing his spell. He’d done all the pre-blessings he could—working with the herbs and the ropes, making sure he would be able to move from step to step easily tonight. The spade he is using to dig up the earth at the base of every other tree surrounding the clearing belonged to his mother. Stiles doesn’t know if she had a magical spark in her, but using her gardening spade makes him feel connected in a small way. Everything being used for this ritual is meant to be tied to ancestry and the elements; it’s fitting.

By the time he has finished burying the bits of rope along the property, the sun is slipping past the horizon. The sky bleeds dark pink and violet as it is consumed with the dark indigo of the night sky. The full moon rises.

Brushing the dirt from his hands onto his jeans, Stiles stands up from the last tree and hauls his bag with him. Allison’s laughter carries from the back of the house where most of the pack is gathered. With his eyes shut, Stiles takes a deep breath and unfurls some of his magic to reach out. He can feel the hum of the ingredients waiting to be ignited below the earth.

Derek is walking towards him shirtless and in a pair of loose athletic shorts when Stiles opens his eyes. Red burns around Derek’s pupils.

“It’s time.”

A shiver zings up Stiles’s spine at the pull and weight of the alpha power flowing from Derek. Stiles squares his shoulders and says, “Okay.”

The walk to the back of the house seems to take longer than it should. Stiles’s senses are heightened with his spark flowing freely and Derek keeping pace alongside him, so close to the apex of his alpha shift on the full moon.

Jackson, Erica, and Isaac look up from where they’re sprawled on the lawn when Derek and Stiles round the corner of the house. Boyd is setting up the wood logs for the bonfire, and Stiles notices the large circle dug into the ground and filled with wet gravel that circles the pit. Peter, he notes, is lurking along the edges of the yard, sipping a glass of wine and pretending to be uninterested in the activity around him.

“Listen up,” Derek starts, calling attention from the pack. “The sun is setting, and tonight marks the first full moon with the pack house completed. Before we run, Stiles is going to complete a warding and blessing ritual that will give our pack and the house protection.”

Jackson opens his mouth, no doubt to say something insulting to Stiles, but Erica elbows him in the ribs as Stiles clears his throat.

“Uh, yeah.” He gives a little wave. “I’ve gone over this a whole bunch, and I’ve already done the really time consuming stuff.” He drops his bag to his feet and holds his hands out. “I need you guys to come over here and hold hands while I do the initial blessing.”

The pack gathers and circles Derek and Stiles at first, before Stiles slips between Peter and Boyd to stand outside. The thrum of energy pouring off from the pack as their hands link causes Stiles’s heart to speed up in his chest. He’s not used to letting his spark settle so close to the surface for such a long time around the pack.

Derek meets his gaze, looking over Scott’s shoulder.

“Clear your minds and breathe evenly,” Stiles starts, voice steady in the quiet of the night. He counts the breaths they take as a collective—one, two, three—then says, “Now concentrate on your alpha and on the bond you share. Pluck at the thread between you and each other, nurture it.”

The first time he’d discussed the process with Deaton, Stiles had felt silly about using such hippie-feel good language. But in practice, he can practically gauge the output of positive energy flowing around the pack.

Stiles closes his eyes and pushes so that it is directed towards Derek first.

There is no hesitancy from any of the pack members, not even Scott or Peter, for which Stiles is grateful—no crack in the foundation of the blessing. Once the energy washes over Derek, Stiles starts reciting the first part of the spell that he’s had memorized for weeks.

Stiles can feel the first snap and pop of the ward settling over Derek; it's a deep thing in his mind that his ears don't actually hear. There is no glow or shimmer to accompany the first stage of the blessing, but the deep snap of it settling over Derek echoes in Stiles’s mind even if he can't hear it.

After the last word, Stiles motions Derek forward with one hand while setting his other on Peter's shoulder so he will know to let the alpha by. The muscle under his hand is tense, and Derek must notice it as well. He watches Derek smooth his fingers down Peter's forearm easily as he walks past him, making an almost subvocal sound that calms even Stiles. The moment is there and gone again, but it makes Stiles's chest feel warm.

Derek nods at Stiles once before crouching down and shifting into his full wolf form. The shorts he was wearing fall to the ground, and then Derek is sprinting into the woods for his part of the ritual, while the majority of the spell’s energy follows him.

“You can all sit now. This might take a little while.” Stiles says, breaking the peaceful quiet.

Boyd laughs lightly, plopping to the ground where he had been standing. “You might be underestimating him.” Erica curls up next to him, linking their arms and laying her head on his shoulder. “He's been practicing for tonight for a while.”

“I've had to take up meat smoking,” Peter complains mildly as he walks to retrieve the bottle of wine he apparently plans to nurse tonight.

Scott ignores the others’s discussion of Derek's hunting proclivities in favor of joining Stiles where he's sitting on the back deck steps.

“You doing okay?” When he goes to sit down, Stiles scoots over so he has space. “Tired or...drained?”

The concern makes Stiles smile, knee bouncing as his mind works over the spell he just set into works. He hopes Derek will be as quick as the pack seems to think he will, because holding onto the tethers of his spark and the open spell is as difficult as carrying water in his palm without spilling it.

Stiles sighs, “Kinda. But I'll be fine.” His eyes stay trained on the tree line, straining to hear anything that sounds like Derek coming back.

Scott bumps his shoulder against Stiles. “I didn't know I would actually feel anything, but that was pretty badass. Like, I could feel this power pour over me?”

Stiles looks at Scott, eyebrows arching. “That was from you guys. It was your pack essence amplified and concentrated to connect to Derek. Pretty cool, huh?” He lets himself feel a little pride at getting things right so far.

This is the biggest spell he's tried to do. And it has potentially the largest consequences if he makes a mistake. _No pressure, or anything._

Scott nods along. His fingers are tipped with claws, something he wouldn’t have let happen even a year ago. Things have gotten better between Scott and his inner wolf. Scott and Derek have gotten closer, and Stiles thinks that has a lot to do with his best friend's newly acquired inner peace. The fact that Derek helped Scott center himself says a lot for the journey of growth he has been on as well. Stiles should probably take Morrell up on her offer to talk things through, seeing as much good as it's done for the others.

Rubbing his hands along the tops of his thighs, Stiles scans the darkening woods. He can't see Derek, can't hear him, but the alpha is out there somewhere running and hunting. There's something extremely attractive about the idea of letting one’s wilder side out. He's never asked for the Bite—he doesn't want to risk dying—but it's still something Stiles thinks about.

When he closes his eyes and concentrates, he can feel the pull of his own magic. Derek is somewhere southwest of Stiles now. The awareness is like a waking limb, all pins and needles in one location, without so much of the discomfort. Deaton had told Stiles he might be able to track the things and people he uses his magic on, but the experience of it is hard to fathom.

A burst of power and...satisfaction, and suddenly Stiles knows.

“He's coming back.” His heart is beating quickly, whether in anticipation or the excitement, Stiles doesn't know. He stands on the stairs and crosses his arms to keep from twitching. His awareness narrows down to the tree line, and where he can feel Derek approaching.

Derek is back in his human form when he steps into the clearing. Across his shoulders, he carries the body of the deer he caught for the sacrifice. He looks powerful and determined, eyes glowing red, as he bends to gently set the deer on the ground. Stiles has moved closer without realizing it, now standing next to the pack. Any other time, and he would be making a face about being so close to something dead, or he would be attempting to get a subtle eyeful of the glory of Derek's naked body. But he has a mission right now, and as nervous as he has been in the weeks, days, and hours leading up to this, Stiles is calm now.

He kneels on the ground next to Derek and pets the still warm neck of the deer. He speaks quietly to Derek. “Now you must present your sacrifice to your pack and land, the bounty of your hunt and the promise of your continued protection and provision.”  
Derek makes quick work of cutting into the deer, using his claws to neatly slice into the chest. Stiles can't watch directly, because his stomach is threatening to churn. Instead, he watches the muscle of Derek's forearm tense and shift under the flesh. It's soothing, mesmerizing. When Derek is done, they both stand.

Now comes the part he has been dreading.  
The heart Derek hands to him is weighty and hot to the touch. He swallows down the urge to gag, grateful for the steadying hand Derek uses on his shoulder even if that means his shirt now has blood on it. Stiles clears his throat, pushing past the physical reaction to concentrate on the spell.

He recites the words quietly, wrapping each syllable tightly with threads of his magic and the essence of the pack's bond as he walks from pack member to pack member, holding the heart out ceremonially. Derek stays in the middle, still as stone. Each person bows their head slightly when Stiles holds the heart out and blood slowly drips between his fingers. The magic within him swells as he closes the circle. It's fed by Derek's sacrifice, his promise to provide and protect his pack.

Stiles concentrates on the thick web of bond connecting each person to the other and back to Derek. His own threads are bright in his mind, distracting where the thickest leads right back to Derek, to his alpha, to...

When he comes back around, Stiles is standing in front of Derek. The red of Derek's eyes glow, and his expression is solemn. Stiles can feel the excitement, the hope, radiating from him. He sets the heart down.

For a moment, he can't look Derek in the eye. He feels sheepish. Even after all this time, Stiles has been a little more careful about touch when it comes to Derek. Too many unseen wounds lie within Derek, and there is too much at stake to risk pushing when Stiles shouldn't. This though, he has to touch Derek now.

“Stiles,” Derek calls out quietly, softly between the two of them when the hesitancy Stiles feels becomes apparent.

They talked through the ritual. Derek knows the whole process, if not why it will work and how Stiles's magic sets it in place.

Nodding once, Stiles bites back an embarrassed smile. “This is going to feel weird.” It's an apology and a request for permission all at once.

Derek lifts his chin, but his shoulders relax. “It's okay.”

One more breath, and Stiles closes his eyes as he lifts his hands up. He calls upon everything within himself and pulls from the earth and the air, asking for a much needed blessing for this worthy and proud alpha. He's hot all over, the spell concentrating as it pours into the cistern of Stiles's mind.

He pours it over Derek, over the pack, over the Hale house and land.

His fingers, wet with the blood sacrifice, begin tracing over Derek's forehead, then down his neck and shoulders, over his chest. Stiles chants the words he memorized and keeps his eyes carefully shut. He can see the shimmer in his mind as the sigils are etched permanently into the pack bonds and into the very earth on which they stand.

When he is finished, his eyelids flutter open, and he meets Derek's gaze first. He feels eerily calm for the moment, if incredibly drained. His mind is exhausted from exercising his magic so intensely for such an extended amount of time. But he can feel that his spell worked, that he has succeeded in blessing and protecting the Hale pack. Stiles wants to plop right down and curl up with his bag, sleep while the pack runs and celebrates.

He lets out a breath, grinning. “We did it.” Stiles bounces on his toes, limbs loose now that he doesn't have to worry any longer. He's got an exhausted energy thrumming through him now, adrenaline dwindling and mind empty of any anxious thought and floating on the assurance that he has done a good job.

Derek is covered in repeating runes of dried blood. By mid chest, Stiles has apparently ran out of makeshift ink, runes fading and disappearing. However, he can feel the magic—pack and Stiles's own, which is a heady and thrilling feeling on its own—radiating from Derek.

The returning grin Derek gives him is beautiful and exaltant. “Thank you.” He doesn't even hesitate before he takes the step between them and pulls Stiles into his arms.

It's a very thorough hug, one Stiles wants to melt into and save up for rainy days. He turns his face, forehead brushing against Derek's neck, and hugs tightly. Derek squeezes him close for a long second as if attempting to push every ounce of gratitude he has right into Stiles.

“Let the guy breath, Derek,” Boyd playfully chides from somewhere behind them, he has Derek's discarded shorts in one hand, offering them back. “After all, he just did us a huge favor.”

It's been almost two weeks since Stiles entertained the thought of murder, but he fleetingly considers it again as Derek lowers his arms and steps away to pull the shorts back on. Too bad Stiles actually really likes Boyd.

The rest of the pack has closed in around them, all smiling and laughing in triumph at the spell’s completion. Jackson mutters about how weird the pull of magic felt to him while Isaac mentions how he'd like to learn more about how magic works. Through the back slaps, hugs, and thank you’s, Stiles finds himself looking back at Derek.

Derek is already looking at him, smiling softly.

“Who else is ready for the run?” Erica asks suddenly, claws popping out with her patented dramatic flair. Her red lips stretch into a challenging grin around her fangs.

Stiles groans without meaning to, and when he gets a questioning look from Scott, he elaborates, “I'm sorta wiped out, man. Deaton said this might happen.” He shrugs. “It's okay though.”

“You should sleep,” Derek says decisively. He nods at the house as he walks to where Stiles left his bag and picks it up, now suddenly carrying both of Stiles's bags. He glances down at himself. “I should probably rinse off first too.”

Peter tugs his shirt up and off in one fluid motion, muscles working smoothly beneath the sudden expanse of skin in display. “You don't want to go frolic in the river, dear nephew?” He winks, and Stiles feels slightly creeped out for a second without even knowing why. It's Peter, though, so that isn't exactly a rare occurrence.

Derek scoffs. “I'll leave that to you.” He looks at the deer on the ground before raising an eyebrow and saying, “after you take care of the sacrifice.”

Stiles swallows thickly, adding, “Far, far away from me. I will partake of any deer steaks or jerky, but I don't want to see how it's made.”  
Peter smirks. “We like our deer a little more rare on full moons.”

Stiles gapes at him for a second before snapping his mouth shut as Derek takes him by the crook of an elbow. “Please tell me you don't eat Bambi, raw?” He asks Derek under his breath as he is led away from the deer and to the house.

He doesn't know for sure who joins in with Peter behind his back, but Stiles can hear the amused laughter. He flips them all off over his shoulder. “See if I ever do any more good deeds for you guys again,” he threatens.

It's an empty threat, and they all know it, but he still smiles smugly to himself.

When they get inside, Derek's hand drops to his side. Stiles misses the touch instantly, but he doesn't mention it. He follows Derek through the kitchen and great room to the stairs that lead to the second floor. Each pack member has a bedroom, and there are other rooms downstairs. Stiles automatically turns to go towards the bedroom Derek had given him, a southern facing room that has an excellent view of the burgeoning garden Isaac and Boyd have started.

“Wait,” Derek asks quietly. When Stiles looks back at him, he seems almost sheepish when he says, “I was thinking you could stay in here during the run.”

The room in question is the master bedroom. It's Derek's bedroom.

“Oh,” Stiles says dumbly. He takes a hesitant step closer. “Really?”

He hopes there isn't too much hope in his voice or scent, but part of him is just too tired to care. He really is exhausted, and being faced with a shirtless Derek who is marked up with runes Stiles painted on him is just too much for Stiles to bother resisting. He takes two more steps, bringing the space between them down to almost nothing.

Derek takes a deep breath before asking, “Will you please stay here while we are running?”

It feels like there is more weight to his question than what the words themselves actually mean. Maybe Stiles is reading too much into it, maybe he just can't parse Derek's tone correctly right now. Either way, Stiles answers truthfully.

“Of course.” It's on the tip of his tongue to lighten the mood with an “If you insist”, but Stiles easily shrugs it off.

After all this time, and after exhausting himself to the bone just now, he doesn't feel up to fighting with himself.

“I'll be right back.” Derek squeezes his shoulder as he passes Stiles to head into his ensuite bathroom, which leaves Stiles alone.

He's alone in Derek's bedroom, the bedroom Derek just asked him to sleep in. He looks around the newly built and furnished room with its hardwood floor, cream and pale green walls, and the very large bed taking up the far wall. When he touches the duvet covering it, Stiles is struck by how soft it is. Even if this weren't Derek's bed, Stiles would be looking forward to crawling under that bedding.

He bites his lip, attempting to ignore the sound of the shower running and the images that threaten to pop into his head, helped along by the fresh memory of Derek emerging naked from woods. Should he go ahead and get into the bed? Maybe he should wait for Derek to come back, hopefully with a bit more clothing on than the loose pair of shorts he went into the bathroom wearing.

Stiles sits on the foot of the bed while he tries to make his decision. The mattress is firm, but not hard, and it feels like it's one of those types that conforms to the shape of your body. Derek obviously spent a lot of money on this bed. The thought makes Stiles smile, happy that Derek seems to have left behind his days of self denial and punishment.

After what feels like no time at all, Stiles is blinking up at Derek who, he notes, is dressed in another pair of loose shorts and no shirt. Derek's hair is wet and slicked back like he barely bothered to towel off before combing his fingers through it impatiently.

Stiles wants to touch.

Instead, he pushes up on an elbow, realizing he had slumped backwards and fallen asleep for a few minutes. “Sorry,” he apologizes, losing the fight against a deep yawn.

Derek seems lighter now, something Stiles notices, and it makes his stomach flip in how good Derek looks when he is less stressed.

He smiles. “That was the point of the bed.”

“True, but I didn't mean to fall asleep the second you disappeared.” Stiles toes off his sneakers and pulls his legs up into the bed. Plucking at the duvet, he says, “This is a very enticing bed though.”

When he glances back up at Derek to give him an amused smile, he finds Derek's eyes darker for a moment. He forgets to say something in the suddenly thick space between them.

After a moment, Derek drags his gaze over Stiles and the bed before saying, “Have a good rest, Stiles.”

Stiles feels like he should say or do something, like they're on the cusp of something between them. The thought makes his heart speed up, and he can only hope Derek doesn't notice it on his way back downstairs and outside. The opportunity was there and gone again, but Stiles isn't as disappointed as he might have been even six months ago.

Mostly, he's just sleepy and content to lie here and drift back to sleep. For once, there is no jealousy or feeling of being left out on a full moon run. His place in the pack had already been cemented, but being able to truly provide protection for it settles something insecure in himself.

The slumber he falls into is deep and restful.

Morning is just beginning, the horizon glowing with a golden sunlight, when Stiles rolls onto his side and drifts back into consciousness. The mattress dips with the weight of someone sitting down, and for just a moment he thinks he's still dreaming. Derek lies down on his back and tucks his arms behind his head. His face is still shifted into beta form.

It makes Stiles blush for no real reason, stomach swooping at the easy way Derek invited himself into bed with Stiles. He stares at Derek's profile freely, waiting to see what he will say.

“Everything went well,” he starts with, looking over at Stiles. “It was probably the most relaxed run we've had yet. I owe you thanks for that.”

Stiles thinks about it for a second before saying, “You seem a lot more relaxed now, and I think that helped them. Your state of mind influences the general mood of the pack.” He knows Derek already knows that, but it feels worth mentioning. “I'm really glad I was able to help.”

Turning so his body faces Stiles, Derek says, “You do.” His gaze is heavy as it sweeps over Stiles's face. “Not just because of your magic. The spell did a lot, I would never deny that but...” He looks down at the bed, and Stiles could swear a blush is creeping along his cheeks.

Derek gently slips his hand beneath where Stiles's arms are tucked against his chest and rests his hand over Stiles's heart. “You mean so much to me.”

Stiles's heart is pounding and hope nearly chokes him. He turns a hand so he can lay it over Derek's and squeeze gently. “I don't...Derek.” He licks his bottom lip, tightening his grip when Derek seems to get the wrong impression from Stiles's terrible beginning. “I care about you so much, maybe too much.” He shuts his eyes and confesses. “I did the spell because I love my pack, and I want to do everything I can to keep the people I love safe. But I also did it because I knew how much it would mean to you, specifically. I wanted to make you happy and help relieve some of your burden.”

When he opens his eyes again, Derek looks a little surprised, but he's smiling too. It's enough to propel Stiles towards the whole truth. “I love you.” He lets out a gentle chuckle and adds, “Like, romantically and in an under-the-pants way. Not just a pack and friends way. In case you needed clarification. Oh God, please say something. I need to stop tal—“

Derek cuts him off by pressing his lips to Stiles's. The kiss is soft and closed mouthed. Derek's fangs make the kiss a little awkward, but it feels real, realer than the fantasies he's had about how this might happen.

He tentatively slides his free hand over Derek's cheek and deepens the kiss, lips parting. When he finally pulls back to suck in some much needed oxygen, Derek is slow to open his eyes. His lips are dark pink and slick. He's beautiful when he smiles at Stiles.

“I love you too, Stiles,” he says with such surety that Stiles has to dart back in and kiss him again.

“Romantically and under-the-pants?” Stiles asks, double checking just to hear Derek say it again.

Derek grins and pushes Stiles back until he's leaning over him. Grinning down at him, he says, “In all the ways. I love you.” He leans down and kisses Stiles softly.

A knock on the door shatters the moment, drawing them out of their bubble and reminding them there is a houseful of pack surrendering them.

“Fucking _finally_.” It's Jackson, because of course it is. He sounds slightly amused though. “You guys can canoodle later, after breakfast. Allison made waffles.”

Derek hangs his head, huffing out a laugh before sitting up. The position puts some very nice pressure on Stiles's under-the-pants area, but Jackson is right. They have time for more later.

And there will be more later, he promises himself.

“Come on. I'm starving.” Derek holds a hand out for Stiles, levering him up. “Food, then bed.” His expression goes hungry for a little more than food, and Stiles shivers with anticipation.

Stiles twines their fingers together when Derek holds his hand out again, leading them to the door. “Food, then bed. I see why you're the alpha. All those amazing planning skills.” He laughs when Derek flashes his red eyes.

“That's the whole reason,” Derek quips.  
He takes one step down when they get to the stairs then looks up at Stiles, expression shifting from jovial to something softer. “Thank you, for everything.”

Tugging Derek by the hand he's holding until Derek leans closer, Stiles closes the distance and smiles into the kiss. Against Derek's lips, he says, “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna come hang out with me on Tumblr, I'm [here](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).
> 
> Comment if you enjoyed this, please!


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